


The Question

by prettyvk



Series: Ink Your Name 'verse [9]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-06
Updated: 2017-02-06
Packaged: 2018-09-22 09:38:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9602045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prettyvk/pseuds/prettyvk
Summary: 'The' question keeps being asked. It'll need a better answer eventually...





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sleepmussedhair](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepmussedhair/gifts).



> I wrote the first part on tumblr forever ago, but it always felt like it needed something else. It's still shorter than i would have wished, but now it feels done.

At breakfast, John asked again.

He always asked on day two or three, when Sherlock had had time to get used to everything, when he’d read both diaries – and read the part of their shared diary that talked about John asking, and Sherlock saying no.

The morning of day two or three was also often, from Sherlock’s point of view, the morning after their first time, and John figured it might help his case.

Not this morning, however. The last two days had been spent working on a case for the Yard, and while John, exhausted, had crashed in the small hours of the morning, Sherlock had stayed up with his violin to think over the case.

He’d solved it. That was the first thing he’d said when John woke up. He’d tried to explain, too, but John had stopped him, saying he needed a cup of coffee or two before he could follow his reasoning.

And now that he’d had his cup of coffee, now that he’d pushed two pieces of toast and the last bit of jam at Sherlock while he talked, as animated as ever, as satisfied with his own cleverness as he’d ever been, as certain as he could be that he still was himself despite the words tattooed on his arm, John asked.

“Will you marry me?”

Sherlock was suddenly utterly still, the last bit of toast forgotten in his hand.

“You’ve asked before,” he said when a few long seconds had elapsed. “Several times. Why ask again when you know what my answer will be?”

John smiled.

“Do you want me to think you’re stuck and can never change? Because you’ve tried very hard to prove that’s not true.”

The prepared words had their desired effect: they left Sherlock speechless.

“Think about it,” John said, standing and leaning over the table to brush a kiss to Sherlock’s lips. “I’ve got time. I’ll go do some shopping now.”

Sherlock was still silent when John left. He wasn’t sure it counted as a win. In any case, it wasn’t a no.

*

The first thing John noticed when he woke up was that he was alone. There’d been an arm wrapped around his chest when he’d fallen asleep, and now it was gone. Not anything all that surprising; this morning was the beginning of day three. Sherlock staying in bed all night would mean risking falling asleep earlier than he had to – not something he ever did willingly.

He yawned, stretched, scrubbed a hand through his hair as he rolled to his side, ready to get up.

And all but jumped out of his skin when he noticed Sherlock sitting on the floor, just an arm’s length away from the bed. His pajama-clad legs were crossed, his chest bare, and he was watching John with an intensity that never failed to send shivers down John’s spine.

“Is the floor comfortable, then?” he asked, propping himself up on an elbow and smiling at Sherlock. “There happens to be a very comfortable bed right here, you know. Warm, too. I don’t mind sharing.”

Sherlock didn’t react in any way and merely continued to stare. Little by little, John’s smile faded. Either something was wrong, or Sherlock had fallen asleep. Before he could ask which it was, Sherlock said, “You want to marry me.”

“I do,” John said, no longer in the mood to joke. “I wouldn’t keep asking if I didn’t.”

He’d been asking for two years. And he’d keep asking, however long it took. He’d be damned if he let Sherlock out-stubborn him.

“What would it change?”

The question took John by surprise. They’d had this discussion many times, and some parts had been repeated even after they’d been laid down in the notebook, but this was new and he had to take a second to think. 

“Not much,” he finally admitted. “I’d want to wear a ring, and I hope you’d want to as well. We could call each other ‘husband.’ We could have a nice party with our friends. But day to day… nothing much would change, I suppose.”

The next logical question was why. Why do it at all if it wouldn’t change anything. John already had an answer, but rather than asking why, Sherlock said, in a perfectly cool and collected voice, “I woke up three hours ago.”

The pang of grief was familiar and John didn’t try to fight it, letting it pass through him and go straight to acceptance. He liked to know whenever possible when Sherlock was going to sleep. It was better if Sherlock got the answers he needed from the notebooks, but John liked being there too, just in case.

“You know I asked you to marry me,” he said after licking his suddenly dry lips, “so you’ve found the notebooks. Is there anything you want to ask me?”

A long pause followed, broken by the light creak of the floor when Sherlock shifted his weight and pushed himself to his knees.

No.

Not to his knees. To _one_ knee.

When he started with a quiet, “John,” his voice was shaking.

And so was John.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] The Question](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9622085) by [bagofthumbs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bagofthumbs/pseuds/bagofthumbs)




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